


Luciferous

by vim_n_vigor



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Cults, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Not totally accurate to the original tale, Past Child Abuse, Romance, Vasilisa the Beautiful AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10392567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vim_n_vigor/pseuds/vim_n_vigor
Summary: Fetching light does not present itself as a difficult task. Nevertheless, finding the light, and what hides behind it, may be the task that finally ends Rey's hard-fought life.A Reylo AU based on Vasilisa the Beautiful and Baba Yaga.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first Star Wars fanfic! I've had this story on my mind for a few days, so lets see where it takes us. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a family that lived in a wonderful home on the edge of town. It was a grand place, the fire always lit and yawning with flames. There was always food on the table; thick slices of bread and fine butter, fresh cheese and sweet fruit for the taking of the family that lived inside. It was a well-constructed home, of fine wood and stone, with a roof that never leaked, and doors and windows that never let a draft sneak in, freezing the residents as they slept in peace. 

In that home, lived a family. There were three of them: a mother, a father, and a sweet-faced girl by the name of Rey, who was the spitting image of her mother. Despite the size of the home, the family was cozy in its confines, the height of the walls a soothing cradle, rather than a prison. The family was very rich, and therefore, had a great collection of fine relics, which made that pretty house feel even better, like a castle, instead of merely a home. 

Rey grew up well loved. Her father was a spice merchant, and her mother, a talented and brilliant seamstress. Though her dear father traveled long and far, he spent as much of his time in the home as he was able, speaking sweet words to his wife, and balancing young Rey on his knee. Her mother ran the home with devotion, head high and actions well tempered. Rey was the apple of her eye, loved dearly by the young mother. Under their guidance, she spent her first four years running about, playing and laughing and doing all of those things little children should. She learned to smile brightly and play (both gently and rough) and to look at the whole world, no matter what she saw right in front of that little, freckled nose. 

It was perfect, just like a storybook might be, complete with beautiful pictures.

Alas, perfect situations such as the one unfolded rarely stand the test of time. 

On the autumn of Rey’s fourth year, a curse befell the beautiful house on the edge of town. First, a trading company pushed its way into town, its money and grandeur snatching away the work of Rey’s father. They quickly discovered that this appeared to be a long-standing ailment. Next, the crop, the food grown to last through the toughest fangs of winter, failed. Her mother had cried into her father’s arms three days after. 

Darkness crept upon the house, and without sufficient income or food, much of the finery in that beautiful house was sold away. Rey, young, sat confused, blinking owlishly at her parents and asking questions when they came. The answer was often the same:

“We will be alright.” 

It was not as alright as they would have liked to have thought. Her father had blamed a draft when her mother fell sick. It was nothing alarming in the first day or two, merely a rattling cough and pallid skin, the eyes dull and uninterested. She rapidly grew worse, skin tinged grey and voice and hands weak, Rey curled into her side as she watched her father succumb several days later, herself somehow untouched. 

Her parents’ room became a sickbed, where the doctor and man who ran the apothecary came in and out, the room filling with the vile smell of pestilence. Young, and unknowing of death, Rey played and watched with bright hazel eyes. They tried their best, her parents and the specialists both. The bad luck on the home had been whispered of, albeit infrequently. There was plenty to gossip over. 

Illness took her kindly father first, despite him falling to its clutches later than her dearest mother did. He had died with his eyes open, wife and child clutching his hands, the former weeping. A sheet was cast over his body, which would be removed and buried in the graveyard at the west end of town. In due time, when the house didn’t cause the undertaker to recoil in fear of his own well-being. So, Rey’s mother continued to fester, and Rey continued to be. 

One day, when the snow was beginning to fall to the ground, Rey’s mother called for her daughter. 

“My dearest.” Her mother’s voice was like she’d swallowed a stone, a weak hand clasping both of Rey’s tiny ones. “I am, afraid that I will have to leave you soon.” Though saddened, the woman did not seem to be fighting her illness any longer. Rey stood stiff, squeezing her mother’s hand until her own fingers were sore. 

“You can’t.” It was the argument of a child, a fat pout and eyes watering with some recognition of the situation. “You can’t go.” 

“I am sorry, Rey.” She smiled through cracked lips, right hand moving from where it was hidden under its blankets. “I never wanted to leave you like this.” The hand was visible, holding onto what appeared to be a doll. “But, you will never be alone in this world, I promise.” Voice strained, she moved to place the toy into Rey’s hands.

“A doll?” That little voice was speculative, somewhat confused, given how unhappy the atmosphere was. 

“Yes, a very special doll, Rey.” Once again, her mother smiled. “If you give it a bit to eat, and a bit to drink, and whisper your worries to it, you will never, ever be alone.” Wide-eyed and smiling at the gift she thought was wonderful, Rey nodded. Clutching the doll, an orange and white round thing with a single, glossy, black eye, she gave her mother the brightest smile she could contain within herself. 

“I will, I promise to.” A friend, that would do her well. Rey’s mother smiled in response, cupping her daughter’s cheek. 

“Run along, little Rey. We will see each other again someday.” A flutter of a promise in her words, Rey fled from the room, doll in hand. Taking it, she curled up on the cold floor, wrapped in her shawl and brow furrowed. So, she fed it a few crumbs of bread and offered a sip of milk, before bringing the doll close to her lips.

“Little doll, my mom is going away,” she started slowly, testing out the magic her mother had spun related to that doll. “I don’t want her to, I really don’t.” Rey sniffled, wiping a few fat tears on her sleeve. The doll, soft as a whisper, chirped to her, a soothing chime of a sound that left her surprised. It did so again, the inflection altered to a thrum. 

What an odd thing. Her mother was far more magical than she thought! Though a wonderful seamstress, Rey had never seen anything like this. She had never heard of a doll that could sing little tunes like an odd instrument. Immediately, she was in love with this precious gift from her family, despite it being a patchwork of fabrics. 

So, with the doll’s small song in her ears, Rey fell asleep in her little bundle of warmth. When her mother passed, and the doctor called for the master of the orphanage, she was able to rest without a worry in the whole world, dreaming of the warm days when the big house was full, like it was supposed to be.


	2. Chasing Fairytales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey grows up far apart from her beginnings and is sent to chase a fairytale that may very well not exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the kind words on the prologue. I'm still getting used to writing for Star Wars, but I had a lot of fun. Enjoy!

The dawn did not come in a typical, storybook fashion each and every day. There was no swath of color that consumed the night sky and sent it blazing into the brand new day. No, the sky of Rey’s world cycled through shades of dark, from the deep black of night, to the heavy grey that dominated the daylight hours. It had been like that for so long, that while there was an itch implanted under her spine involving the matter, it didn’t actively cause her any sort of distress. She supposed that was for the best; despair was a rather difficult thing to combat, after all. 

She awoke as she always did, curled on her side, eyes half open before her brain managed to catch up with her body. It was a habit, she supposed. The noise of the night, the sounds of children and the heavy footsteps of Unkar Plutt left her on edge, alert for the sounds of too loud feet getting close to the small space she called her own. It had been like that, or, very similar, for as long as she could possibly remember. Though, her memory had a very definite beginning, one that did not coincide with the beginning of her life. Nineteen years, and she was still chasing questions and what ifs. 

The sun turned the heavy grey sky a bit lighter, sending her thin form from the hay bed she found solace in. Rey moved quickly, tangling her fingers into her hair until the tangles fell away, leaving mousy waves that fell around her face, rubbing sleep from herself. Spare water from her bucket was splashed over her face, removing the last of the crust that had built up in the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t much; Rey was still Rey, with big tired eyes and a grimly set mouth that could just as easily break into a heavy smile. She didn’t think much of her appearance, choosing instead to take the events of the day as they came to her. Everything was as it usually was.

Rey had lived in that same stone building with the constantly leaking roof and drafty windows for as long as her memory was viable. It had been the only place she could have gone as a child, so it was less of a choice, and more of a necessity, as unfortunate as that was. The orphanage was not a kindly place; it was a rare, rare thing, to see a child adopted, instead of aging out and being kicked into the world to try and do their very best, still a child in their own mind. She had stayed for an additional three years past when she was supposed to, though her gratefulness for the orphanage master’s generosity was fleeting at the best. Rey was a clever soul, it was obvious by the look on her face and the way her hands took to the tasks she was given. She’d shown a particular talent for fixing things, finding things, so Unkar Plutt saw her as worthwhile. Rey had been allowed to stay under that warm roof because of the kindness of his heart, he always said. 

She was quite doubtful that the kindness Unkar Plutt spoke of in that slimy voice was true. Though aware and uncomfortable, she stayed. While money was offered in no way, shape, or form, there was still shelter, bits of food that she didn’t have to scrounge for. In all forms, Rey was a vagrant in everything but practice. It was the fear of being turned loose to starve, that sat in her heart and stomach, making her sick if she thought about it for too long. Though, the children who were still too young to face the world like she was supposed to do also drew her, a moth to a particularly hot flame. While neither their mother nor sister, her work to bring comfort and money to the orphanage ultimately benefited them. 

For that reason, she stayed, Rey said. 

She stayed despite the poor reimbursement for work that would break her bones someday, despite the leering friendliness of the orphanage master. The man who had reared her by hand for about as long as she could remember was liberal with his touch, both harsh and a despicable sort friendly. It was a vile thing, that never failed to make her upper lip curl when she thought of it, or spoke to her friends on the occasions she wasn’t drowning in her own responsibilities, struggling to make ends meet for the day. Rey took great efforts to avoid Unkar Plutt, to only speak a word or two, and to never ask for anything. It was impossible to avoid him completely, as much as she wished. It seemed that the world was needling at her to fall from whatever odd tower of grace she’d constructed from oil and stone. 

Leaving her room in a flurry, Rey tried to brush a spot from her threadbare blouse, only to find it was a stain of what appeared to be oil. It was nothing new, she’d long ago given up on keeping her few garments spotless. Besides, her doll was perfectly unharmed. That doll had been with her as long as she could remember, pressed into her hands when her mother announced her departure, never to return for a young Rey who would still cry her eyes out when the day was hard and the night became too long to handle. It occurred rarely, though the doll never left her. 

Bee-Bee, she’d originally called it, for the patterns of orange and white that vaguely reminded her of the fat, round bodies of bumblebees. Though the resemblance was vague, it was easy for a child to remember. Later, that little doll had been repaired, patched by her own clumsy hands with fabric she’d torn from the white bits of her dress. That little doll had eight patches adorning its fat body, that gleaming black eye still attached firmly. Bee-Bee Eight, it had become, the memories it held of her mother keeping it close to her person. So, that little doll was tucked into her skirt, hidden from view by the heavy layers of her old shawl and woven skirt. 

She flew down the stairs, a pattering of feet that, while not timid, worked to not draw attention. Down the narrow hallway, Rey pushed herself out the big doors that acted as the entrance, onto the rotten wood porch and off the property at a brisk pace. She earned her keep from scrounging, going through junk for fine pieces that would be forgotten, sold by Unkar Plutt for his own benefit, her permission to stay in that drafty attic. There were fascinating things to find, from pieces of valuable metal, to jewelry salvaged from the scene of a house fire, to spices from an unfortunate accident with a cart. Getting caught with such things would end badly for her, though she doubted Plutt cared. Business was business, and despite Rey’s misgivings, food was food. 

That same grey sky greeted her like a persistent old friend, her shawl drawn up around her shoulders and basket in hand as she skulked to side streets. There was an estate, isolated on its own hill and built finely. Nevertheless, that grand home was abandoned, empty and collecting dust for several months. There had been a couple there, a woman with great social status and her husband; she had heard that the latter had died, the former so struck with grief that she left the house behind, going back to where the memories were not so thick. It was a terribly sad story, in Rey’s mind. Whispers had said they had a son once, a boy who had taken to the woods one winter, never to return and never to be found- neither bones nor flesh available. What had happened was a conspiracy, if Rey ever heard one, tales of witches and those with wicked intentions, snatching up children and consuming their souls. 

It was the sort of story that gave her nightmares when she was young, created bubbles of nausea in her gut and forced her to whisper to Bee-Bee Eight until its trilling soothed her addled mind. 

She was quickly gaining company on the street. Being alone was a fleeting thing in a place like this. Her room was a sanctuary, but only for a small number of hours. The street was slowly growing in population, people going about their early morning business, just as Rey was. 

“Rey!” The grim set of her face melted into steam, a familiar voice drawing an easy smile to her lips. Finn was good to her, though a particularly new friend of hers. He wasn’t from around here and was hard pressed to discuss anything about where he had come from. Though, Poe had taken him under his wing when he arrived, so Rey took to him with open arms of her own. “Good morning.” 

“Finn.” She greeted easily, Finn’s beaming smile fast becoming infectious. “Good morning to you.” Finn approached, and Rey was acutely aware that he was studying her face, the visible curve of her neck and the thin structure of her wrists. Bruising, odd marks, he was looking for the signs that always made anger crease into his brow, protests both said and unsaid on his lips when they were found. “I can’t talk for long, I’m in a rush.”   
  
“You’re always in a rush.” His tone was light, though peppered with concern. In response, Rey offered a grin of her own, nodding her head and pushing a few pieces of hair from her face before they stuck from sweat. “Poe misses you, you know. I miss you! It’s been way too long, Rey.” 

“I know, I know.” Rey’s words were breathy, a little twist of guilt present in her stomach. She didn’t mean to neglect the pair. They’d been nothing but good to her for as long as they’d known one another, it seemed unfair to brush them aside, despite how it ate into her time to work. It wasn’t healthy to work until she dropped, but scrounging until she wore to the bone seemed to be the only way to keep herself around long enough to be able to have that social time. “I’m sorry, really. I’ll come see you and Poe in a few days.” Taking her left hand, Rey etched an X over her chest. “Cross my heart.” Finn drew in a breath, but deflated soon after, determination still in the set of his jaw. 

“Fine, fine. I don’t like it, th-”

“I know, Finn.” Her words were a little sterner, with an edge that did not bite, while her nose wrinkled to the point where the freckles vanished. “I know. I’ll be okay, I need you to believe in that.” Reaching out, Rey clasped his shoulder, squeezing it tight. Thankfully, Finn nodded his head once, seeming to steel himself, before drawing her into a bear of a hug that she returned, throwing her arms over his shoulders and letting the basket fall awkwardly. 

“Be safe?”

“I’ll be safe.” 

“Good. Go get ‘em.” His release on her was hesitant and once again, Rey’s gut twinged. “I’ll tell Poe you send your best.” The smile was back as she gathered her basket, brushing it off and inhaling a quick breath through her nose. 

“Thanks, Finn, I’ll see you soon.” Rey was never one to offer goodbyes, they offered no definite amount of time in her mind, leaving questions that could go unanswered for far too long. Finn sated, Rey carried herself down the street, heading for the hills where that sad old manor sat solemnly.

She never managed to make it to the house on her first attempt. A true vagrant, a man with a mess of a blonde beard and a friendly disposition, had offered a few stones with enough shine and weight to be worth a little, in exchange for odd bits of information she had on obtaining food. It had done her well, to take to those who were in very similar situations to herself. Rey was hardly the only person under another’s thumb, or desperately scrabbling for enough to keep alive. So, more of her day than she wanted, was eaten up by those odd politics. Eventually, though, she did break away, shooing the beckoning of town for the promise of the inside of that abandoned manor. 

It was a long trek, leading her out of town and to the cusp of the woods that gathered fog at night no matter the weather. She wasn’t fond of that, there were too many stories connected to that woods, and Rey had long decided that if she was forced to leave the town, she would only take to those woods during the day when the superstitions and curses didn’t run rampant. Though, it was unlikely she’d ever leave her town for good. Her fingers were curled onto the notion that there was someone from her family who was going to come back, to take her from the clutches of Plutt, and to what her vague memories told her. 

Thankfully, the woods parted long before the hill crested, allowing her to see the house. She’d seen it from the distance, but it was far more depressing at this distance. That twinge in Rey’s gut was back, making it hurt as she approached the doors. A gentle push yielded no success, leading to Rey having to use a branch to pry the old door until the rusted latch broke, hinges creaking and dust floating. It seemed that the occupants had left in a hurry, there were still pieces of furniture, not even shroud in clothes, but left to the air and the weather. While some were ruined, other bits had beautiful fabrics and woods, though they were far too big to take. 

Rey wasn’t fond of being a petty thief, of all things. Though this house was somewhat different, it had been abandoned, not emptied temporarily. The occupant was never to return, so it was different. Her search led her through the home, her basket taking a few pieces as they were found. Three fine china plates, painted with flowers, silver cutlery, a mortar and pestle that were too heavy to be cheap. Who could be in such distress, to leave this much behind? It wasn’t her mystery to solve, but it would fill her belly for her efforts. 

The stairs creaked too much to make her comfortable, though she gathered up her fearlessness and took to them, poking through the dark like a cat. A bedroom at the end of a hall revealed a room that had the thickest layer of dust she had ever seen, several sneezes hitting her when she pulled the swollen door open. It must have belonged to a child, a boy, by the looks of the carved words on the bedposts, a few beaten up toys lingering about. Rey took several toy soldiers, pushing them to the bottom of her stash, intending fully for the children under Unkar Plutt’s care to receive them. There was nothing that said they couldn’t benefit, so long as he did. Eventually, though, that boy’s bedroom felt far too heavy, that twinge in her gut now an ache in her chest, a flicker of memory burning bright as noon. Rey was forced to rub her eyes, blinking it away and exiting the room in a rush. 

She found jewelry in the master suite. It was nothing decadent, no family heirlooms with obvious crests, or massive jewels that would likely make Plutt’s slimy heart stop from shock. But, there were pearls, a ring made of gold and something green, a necklace with a round pendant and a short chain. Jewelry, the last time she’d brought that in, it had been an occasion to celebrate. So, she pocketed all she found, letting the house chase her from that room too. The initial search had returned enough that, Rey didn’t deem it necessary to keep hunting, it would be fine to simply leave and return another day. 

The trek down felt longer than her trip back, though perhaps that was due to weight and exhaustion beginning to set in. Rey was tough stuff, but a hike, the climbing through the house, opening stuck doors, it had taken a bit out of her. Besides, she was in no way eager to return to the orphanage, good findings or not. By the time darkness was falling, Rey was exiting the woods that briefly encroached on her path. The entire area had seemed to cool, even for the change of day, allowing her to pull the shawl tighter, jaw set and limbs like steel traps. 

Despite her paranoia and despite her apprehension, Rey did return to Plutt’s, the toy soldiers pulled from her basket and tucked into her dress next to Bee-Bee Eight, safe and sound to be slipped under a pillow when she had a moment of her own. Unkar Plutt was very well awake by the time she entered, though the children had been chased to their rooms to hunker down as she used to do. 

“Rey,” his voice oozed in a way that made her want to rinse herself clean, “you’re back.” There was little friendliness in that voice, instead, an expectant tone, eyes gleaming like new coins. “Let me see what you have there.” Without a word, Rey set the basket down, greedy hands snatching at the handle and rooting through its contents. “Hm.” The man grunted, taking a pen and making a few notes on a pad, occasionally looking up at Rey, to which she stood tall, jaw set. “I suppose this is worth something.” Once again, he wrote, before sliding over the pad for Rey to read. 

“What?” She blanched, immediately taken aback. That was far less than she’d been given for jewelry last time, and that had been of a lesser quality, with nothing else to supplement it. “That’s only three days!” Rey’s voice was hushed in its outrage, eyes wide and brow furrowed sharply. Plutt often played games, though they never hit so hard, or left her reeling like that. While this particular stash had not been difficult, others were. Rey had risked her own life and limb more than once for a meal and her continued stay in a room that was warm more often than not. 

“I know.” Unkar Plutt did not move from his chair, round fingers clasped, jewelry gleaming on the desk’s surface. He paused, offering a smile dangerous enough to make Rey want to recoil, nausea in her stomach. “Are you arguing with me?” Oh, she wanted to.

“No. I’m not.” Her words were curt, forced from her lips before she could say something that would make her feel the sting of regret across her cheek. Rey would scream her anger later when prying ears weren’t around to hear. Whatever game was being played, she didn’t want to continue. Rey rarely turned out a winner in such things. 

“Good girl.” The slimy smile was back, leaving Rey feeling a bit too greasy and in need of another wash. “You can do better, though.” Her eye twitched, jaw set and lips pursed firmly. “I’ve got something I want you to get for me, Rey.” His hand waved in the direction of a fat candle, dripping wax on the table. When Rey raised an eyebrow, Unkar Plutt continued without her asking, giving her no time to interject. “Light, from Baba Yaga’s house in the woods.” 

“That’s a fairytale.” She found her voice, coming firm and a bit sharp against her tongue. “There’s nothing there except wild animals, everyone knows that.” Well, there were whispers of what could be, Rey would take that much with a few grains of salt. “It’s not worth going in there.” Frankly, she didn’t want to. 

“Even if what you’re saying is true.” Plutt’s voice was a growl, hand planted firm on the table. “Then you can go look for bodies eaten by the bears. I want something better than what you’re bringing me. This isn’t cutting it anymore.” He paused, blowing a hot, heavy breath at her face. “And don’t come back until you find something.” Rey opened her mouth, then closed it, bristling at the notion. She was essentially being kicked out. There were only stories to chase, riches that had no solid place in the world for her to discover. Rey was not in the habit of story chasing, though promises were a different story. 

“Fine.” Rey left without another word, up the stairs and lingering at the door where the children slept. The toy soldiers tucked in with her own doll felt all too heavy, more promises that she’d made, to protect and care. Chasing stories likely meant she wouldn’t come back and the thought made her ache. Pushing the heavy door open, she laid the painted toys down, letting her own stay close to her side. Hopefully, they would know she had left them behind and would keep them from Unkar Plutt’s hands. 

There wasn’t much of anything to gather from her room. An extra shawl, some stockings, a hairbrush, all rolled up in her blanket, which was tied firmly to her back with a rope she’d used once before, for a task she could not recall. It was a bit awkward, a bit heavy, but not enough to distract her from the coil of outrage within her. Rey left the house in a silent rush, going down the street and into an alleyway, hidden in the shadows of homes not rolling in their own distress. 

Once hidden away, Rey leaned herself against the wall, pulling at her dress until she pulled Bee-Bee Eight from its folds. Limbs a little weak, Rey let a sigh flutter from her throat, squeezing the toy in rough hands. 

“Hey, Bee-Bee.” A sad smile crossed her lips, Rey digging into her pockets for crumbs of bread from her dinner. Offering the crumbs with some water, Rey pressed her lips to the little glass eye. “I’m chasing fairytales, I’m never going to find a  _ light  _ of all things in the woods. Baba Yaga, is just a tale to scare little kids.” Rambling her worries, Bee-Bee Eight seemed to thrum beneath her touch, offer a small trill for her ears only. She paused, inhaling until she sniffled, breath hitching heavily.   
  
“Yeah, I know. I’ll be alright.” 


	3. A House on the Edge of the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey collects herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! School is a pain.

Rey did not immediately take to the woods. The woods was a strange place with tales that plagued it to such a degree that Rey found no comfort in its embrace. Perhaps the tales that said such things were meant to lead the world wrong, to drive them into dangerous places where escape was but a fleeting concept, instead of an absolute. Though, that was much like her own situation, what she was about to dive in towards. There was no comfort to be found, no solace besides the little doll, sounding away when she whispered her worries for it. To be frank, she was frightened of the possibilities, it was more likely that a wild animal or the impossibility of the task she’d been given would kill her, not the fabled witch in the heart of the darkened forest. 

She’d been walking for quite some time, a particular goal in mind that had nothing to do with immediately heading for those (frankly horrifying) woods. Rey was aching for comfort at that moment, in some way, shape, or form. It would do much more than just sitting and stewing in her thoughts until she burst from her skin from the stress of it all. So, her feet carried her down paths, this way and that until she came upon the familiar walls that housed Finn and Poe, two beams of light in her atypically dark world. Rey slipped up the steps like a ghost, lingering on the doorstep for more than a moment, head reeling with what ifs and unrealistic consequences beyond her control. 

Drawing herself into a singular body, Rey knocked at the door. There was a fleeting moment of silence, before chatter erupted within the house, Finn peeking through the door apprehensively. It only stayed that way for a moment, the door promptly thrown open once Rey’s face was recognized. 

“Rey! What’re you doing he- Poe! Rey’s here!” His voice faded from her battered ears, leaving her on the stoop while excited chittering sounded through the warm light house. Rey’s task sat even heavier, a coil in her stomach burning in a way that had no pleasure. It was sort of ironic, it felt as if the light was right there, within her sturdy grasp, if only she could reach inside herself, past all the useless bits to find that light that condemned her to the unknown. That wasn’t a possibility, despite her prayer and pleading. 

The chatting came at her louder, Rey perking up from her contemplation. If she went any longer, the world would hit her like a brick, leaving her to see stars. At its climax, both Poe and Finn came to the door, the former beaming and the latter’s brow knitted with well placed concern. While she would have loved to brush it away, the worry was a very valid sort of thing. 

“Hello there, Rey.” Poe’s beaming smile hit her like a sunbeam, a hand gesturing to her. With that, she slipped inside, basking in the sense of home. “Good to see you again.” 

“Yeah,” she let the word hang, “it could have been better circumstances.” Inside the house, Finn ushered her to a chair, in which she collapsed, bread and butter pressed into her steady hands. Stuffing it into her mouth, a few crumbs fell to her lap, reminding her of Bee-Bee in her pocket. 

“What happened?” Finn came out with it immediately. “You said everything was fine yesterday-” A pause, and his voice lowered. “Did he hurt you?” The question of who he was, that was no question, and beside Finn, Poe tensed himself. Rey herself turning into a spring, trying not to think too long. 

Unkar Plutt’s hands were not kind ones, and though Rey was thankful that his had not been on her, his deeds were still dooming her. So, she shook her head, offering a shrug of her shoulders to try and detail the confusing nature of her fate. 

“No. No, that’s not what happened.” The steady words stung a bit. “He didn’t touch me. But I can’t go back.” That raised eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“So he did something!” 

“Slow down, slow down.” She shook her head once more. “Just listen to me. He has me looking for light from Baba Yaga’s hut. And well,” Rey didn’t bother to finish, shaking her head with a puff. 

“It doesn’t exist?” Poe provided the rest, letting Rey nod along to confirm her dread. Abruptly, he cursed, looking terribly sorry. “You know you can just stay with us, Rey. Really.” That had been posed many times before, and the offer was terribly tempting. 

“I’ve got to try, Poe.” Both men furrowed her brow at her argument, leading to Rey blowing a sigh through her nose. “We’ve talked about this.” They’d talked, even fought about it. Finn and her had stopped speaking at one point, Rey’s bull headed nature keeping her back with the kids who lived the way she did.

“No you-” Poe cut himself off, shaking his head before another argument erupted about Rey’s decisions, a cup of water pushed into her hands instead. Bringing it to her lips, she eyed Finn, who had gone very quiet ever since her mention of the light. They made eye contact, Finn fidgeting under the weight of her gaze. 

“I mean what I said.” Directing her gaze towards Poe, Rey shrugged, taking a long sip of water. “I might as well try, Unkar Plutt won’t let me back until I have something to show him.” Her fate was sealed, in that regard. What was left to lose?

“You shouldn’t go.” Finn’s voice interrupted the escalating argument, soft and firm. Rey paused, turning to him and tilting her head in a silent question. While Finn worried, something in his tone set her on edge, fingers holding tight to her cup until her knuckles bled their color. The words had her nervous, mind fluttering to places it didn’t mean to be. A million possibilities existed for what in the world he could be warning her about. That fact made her stomach twist. 

Finn was a bit of a mystery. He wasn’t a native of the town, having arrived silently and abruptly when Rey was a bit more than thirteen years old. Gossip had suggested where he may have come from, though Rey and Poe knew some resemblance of the entire truth. He’d come from a small community; escaped, rather than left. The place was a prison, he’d said, a place that only existed in the most demented of fairy tales. A prison led by something that was in no way human, surrounded by its apostles, heretics’ bodies stretched out to try in the sun. While Rey’s imagination had not created a complete picture, it was enough to warn off any sense of adventure related to a place like that. Prisons (or another at least) weren’t for her. Not again. 

“What do you mean?” Poe spoke for her, though both of them most definitely had a rough idea of what Finn was referring to. Slowly, he sat, taking the place next to Rey, close to her side and fidgeting all the while. Pausing, she gripped his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before it fell back to her lap with a smack. 

“You shouldn’t go chasing stories like that.” Finn paused, seeming to be in thought for a moment. “You’re going to end up as a body in the woods somewhere, and we can’t lose you, Rey.” Finn’s smile was a sad thing, an arm coming around Rey’s shoulders, to which she replied by leaning against his side. She knew that as well, it was a heavy reminder, the fact that people needed her. It meant she couldn’t throw herself to wolves in a quest to chase something different. The town and Unkar Plutt’s grip was suffocating her, a hand drawn around her throat and crushing her windpipe until her eyes bugged out and what will she had shriveled up. 

So, Rey offered a hum that got stuck in her throat, blinked heavy eyes and collapsed into her seat, all her bones elsewhere. Poe and Finn eyed her, though with the latter’s words, nobody dared to say anything. Eventually though, Rey broke the silence in two, brain whirring all the while. 

“I’m still going to go, Finn.” He opened his mouth to protest, before she held up her hand. “I’ve got to try. Maybe there’s something, or someone’s body in the woods has something so good that Unkar Plutt can’t turn me away.” Corpse robbing still made her stomach turn, but it had its benefits. The dead found in sad, forgotten places had no ghosts to haunt her physical form, though the thoughts hung heavy. 

“That makes sense.” Poe’s soft voice disrupted her fleeting thoughts, while Finn gave the other a horrified look. “Risk and rewards and all.” He grinned, clapping his hands together with just enough force to instill a bit of confidence in the room. “You’ll do fine, I’ve- we’ve got faith in you.” 

“Stay the night, Rey.” Finn piped up once more, firm in his insistence. “You shouldn’t go when it’s this late, there’s no point.” It seemed like there was something left unsaid, though nobody could bare to say or hear it. So, Rey did not argue, she nodded her head and allowed the two to sweep her up, shuffling her along to the spare room with the somewhat lumpy bed. She’d seen it before, though it was not a common residence. Once or twice, when she hadn’t found a thing and unwilling to face Unkar Plutt’s wrath, Rey had slipped into an empty and open bed, slept the night and came back to the orphanage the next evening with frantically obtained goods. While they always insisted she could remain, Rey never did. 

Finding no reason to continue talks, her bed was dropped by the door, crumbs brushed off her front to the floor. It was nothing substantial enough to offer to Bee-Bee, and if she had anymore worries to offer, Finn and Poe would have chased them off. Her little doll acted as a comfort in the loneliest of times; thankfully, this was not the case. 

Shoes tossed away, Rey undid layers of clothing until she was left in her underthings, hair unbound and falling across her shoulders. With a single candle on the dresser casting the room in yellow light, a certain serenity had ensnared her, just enough to allow Rey to sink down on the mattress, Bee-Bee clasped in her hands. There was a lot riding on her ability to get very, very lucky. It was a frightening thing, how lucky she’d need to be to be allowed back into her home without a fight. So, Rey readied herself for a fight of sorts. 

Slipping into the rough bed covers, she splayed her limbs, taking up every inch of space she was offered. It was a terrible habit, though she hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for as long as she could remember. Really, she wasn’t sure what she’d do if stuffed into a bed with another person, the concept was just a little too much to think about in that moment. Nevertheless, sleep didn’t claim her for some time, her head fluttering through the events that lead her to where she currently was. It all seemed rather obvious, when she looked at it. Her parents leaving her behind, followed by her being turned over to Unkar Plutt, followed by growing up and proving herself useful. That unfortunate series of events lead her to chasing fairy tales in the woods, never to return, if what claimed to be the truth was accurate. The fate that had been laid out for her in the last several hours was not one she wished to hold tight to. 

Rest did not come easily, sleep was dragged, kicking and screaming, from a hole that it didn’t want to come from. It ate her alive instead, tearing her to pieces and leaving her semi-lucid in the dark. It was a particularly morbid thought, but she was left with a morbid task to fulfill, her life be damned. 

She awoke when the light streamed through her window in pinpricks, a young day signaling her own rising. So, Rey got to her feet, tucking her doll to her waist, dressing and packing herself up. A knot rested in her gut, thick and tight, to the point where she was unsure of what felt right to do. There were no options, but there was no saying she had to feel good about the path she was going down. So, she would take what came to her, but would not take it lightly. Drawing in the biggest breath that her lungs could hold, Rey in her entirety strayed outside, unwilling to stay much longer. 

It would be difficult to do so. Goodbyes were hard, harder than they had been when she was small. Without any certainty that she was coming back, there were no promises to leave behind for her two friends to hang on to. Her mother had said goodbye, and promptly not returned, so Rey vowed to avoid doing the very same thing. 

While there was sun available, a pale mist still hung over the valley of the town, the trees and the hills seeming taller and darker with the light. Taking in another one of those massive breaths, she left Finn and Poe behind in their own happiness, intent on chasing what little of her’s she could salvage. Her feet followed a familiar path, back towards the sturdy ruins that she had picked through in her last expedition. It was close to the entrance of Baba Yaga’s infamous forest, bordering on it, with the trees at its back. She’d go through it one more time, before heading off to her proverbial doom. The home was beautiful after all, a place that she imagined herself living in when her bed at Unkar Plutt’s felt particularly lumpy or uncomfortable, come to life and there for her to enjoy, despite its ruined state. 

Rey’s trek took less time than it did to initially find the home, though that was no surprise. It wasn’t hard to find, but it was avoided, like a once and forever home for plague victims, leaving behind a sinister reputation. There was no such thing here, but the tales of a family and a boy who vanished into thin air, consumed by the woods like Rey was about to be. Perhaps that’s what made her so apprehensive, so sure she was going to die chasing light that didn’t exist. 

She could not remember his name, nor the name of his parents. He was merely ‘the boy’, someone with a face and eyes and a heart and a name, all gone. Chased out from grief, the parents were gone, the house left behind to fester. Perhaps it was for the best, not remembering that name. Some said there was evil out in the woods, that gnawed on bones, that corrupted those it took. So, perhaps it was for the best that a boy was remembered for going missing, and not for converting to something horrific. 

So, Rey sat at the doorway, the door broken and rotting from its hinges, the inside full of broken promises and a shattered picture of a family she had never known. She was jealous, of what they had once been, and that they had the opportunity to break apart. Nevertheless, she mourned as well, knees up by her chin and Bee-Bee clutched in her thin hands. There were no tears to shed, but there was emotion to be had, words to say and think, though her lips would remained sealed for the time being. 

She would go into the woods soon.

But not quite yet.

**Author's Note:**

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